


Buck-Oh! -- A Dancing Clown on Coruscant

by AbsoluteDominanceAndVictory



Category: IT - Stephen King, Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Horror, Humor, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2018-12-15 20:21:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11813502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbsoluteDominanceAndVictory/pseuds/AbsoluteDominanceAndVictory
Summary: Pennywise the Dancing Clown senses the fear in a 10 year-old new Jedi Apprentice Anakin Skywalker. Anakin struggles between following his feelings and applying what his Masters Obi-Wan and members of the Jedi Counsel taught him.





	1. Chapter I

The sun on Coruscant was setting. The gold and red of the sunset was a soothing bath of natural radiance against a cityscape foreground. Anakin sat, taking in the view from his meditation chamber with a deep breath as Master Yoda had told him to. He felt at peace, calm. His fate was with people who he had slowly learned to see as mentors. He loved Master Obi-Wan - he and him would be good friends, he knew it. Even so, things were strange. The Jedi Counsel seemed a bit kinder and less distant now that he was under Master Obi-Wan's official tutelage, but there was still a palpable sense of fear in them since that that Sith had killed Master Qui-Gon. The sun continued to dip as the colours of the sky became more vivid and powerful.

"Hi!" a gruffy but goofy-sounding voice called out from behind. Startled, Anakin swivelled. He caught himself moving too fast again. A Jedi moves with attention and care, not with fear Obi-Wan had said. He had turned all the way around, but saw nothing.

"Over here, boy-oh!" the voice said again. Getting up, Anakin surveyed the room. Seeing nothing, he felt afraid. Fear is the path to the dark side he remembered. He centred himself, and had faith in the Force. He took another deep breath.

"Who's there?" Anakin asked calmly, turning away from the window and towards the room's entrance.

"Over here!" the voice said again, this time sounding like it was coming from behind him. Anakin turned, hearing the ventilation shaft above close and two quick, soft clapping sounds on the floor. Orienting towards the window, he bumped into something soft. "Oof!" the voice called out, sounding now to be right up against him. Anakin fell to the floor. He almost yelled, but again held it in, focusing on his feelings with all his concentration. He closed his eyes and exhaled. He opened his eyes to see a large, fuzzy figure silhouetted against the striking Coruscant sky.

"Oh, so sorry! Maybe I should move to somewhere a little less sunny, eh?" the voice said with a chuckle as the figure moved to the side. Anakin began to pick himself up, but the figure grabbed him by the hand and lifted him up. Anakin could see it now.

"Hey-ya there, Ani!" he said. Anakin paused, more confused now than frightened. "Oh… don't they teach you how to say 'Hi' here?"

"Uh…" was all Anakin could get out of his mouth. A jester...? On Tatooine people would occasionally dress silly for fun, but nothing quite like… this.

"Come on, Ani. Don't tell me you've never seen a clown before?!" the clown said, its eyes popping and its stark red lower lip jutting out. What was this? Anakin couldn't imagine. His face was frozen, blank.

"I know, I know, I'm too silly for such a wise and disciplined place," the clown said. "Maybe I should go…" He lowered his head and whimpered. He trudged forward a few paces. He had such ridiculous shoes. Was he human or some other species? He remembered Yoda's saying: Appearances matter not. If judge we do with our eyes, forever bound to suspicion are we.

"Its alright," Anakin managed to say. "Its just I wasn't expecting you. Who are you?" The clowns face instantly brightened back up as he lifted his head and spun back around.

"Well I'm glad you asked. I, Ani, am Pennywise the Dancing Clown! Nice to meet'cha!"

"Nice to meet you, too" Anakin said. "Why are you here?" Pennywise smiled, radiating a childlike innocence from the glimmer in his eyes. His face was ridiculous - a stretchy ball of energy which would be a stark white save for the orange glow from the planet's sky, and topped with the craziest red hair Anakin had ever seen.

"To see you, of course!" Pennywise's voice sang out. "Wanna play?"

"Master Obi-Wan said that Jedi must control our desires," Anakin said.

"Ooh," Pennywise crooned. "I forgot the Jedi do that. Oh well, I guess it's for the best - gotta protect the Galaxy calmly, right? Can ya forgive me, pal?"

"Sure," Anakin said. The room went quiet. Pennywise just stood there, then swivelled his eyes left, then right, his face looking just as confused as Anakin felt.

"So… what are we doing?" Pennywise asked.

"Um… I'm not sure."

"Oh, come on buck-oh!" Pennywise said. "You've gotta have fun some time!" Anakin looked at him. Pennywise then began to skip around the room, clapping his hands, laughing and giggling the whole way around. He jumped and pushed himself off one of the walls, and used that momentum to propel himself back to where Anakin stood, running right up to him. Anakin kept calm, trying not to get his emotions get the better of him. Pennywise ran right up to him and, stretching out his finger, bumped Anakin on the nose. "BOOP!" Anakin couldn't hold it in anymore - this was too much. He let out a giggle. Pennywise grinned from ear to ear.

"That's the picture!" he yelled out. "I knew you could laugh. It's my job, see?" He reached behind himself and pulled out a piece of paper. "It's a clown degree!" Within an instant, he had swapped out the paper for a long, thin, blue balloon. Beginning to stretch, twist and bend it, he called out "It's a tauntaun!" Letting go of one of the seams, it snapped back into its original shape. Pennywise's face dropped. "Well I guess it's a lightsaber, then." He swung it back and forth "Vwoom! Vwoom!" Anakin's giggling intensified. Pennywise carefully balanced the balloon on the tip of his finger, shuffling his arm around to keep it upright. Then, dropping his hand, he rushed with the other to grab the balloon before it fell to the floor. Accidentally grasping it too tightly, it popped. "OOPS!" A blue ink from inside the balloon splattered all over him. Anakin could now hardly breathe through the laughter.

Pennywise continued his charades for a while. Soon, however, Anakin realized that Master Obi-Wan would be disappointed seeing him out of control like this. Was this a test? he wondered. If he had, he had certainly failed miserably, and Obi-Wan would be very grumpy. He centred himself again, trying to ignore the clown. He looked down. His padawan's robes had blue ink all over them. Obi-Wan would definitely give him a lecture after this. His smile faded.

"Am I not funny anymore?" Pennywise asked. He pursed his lips and made a sad face.

"No, sir. I just have to control myself," Anakin responded.

"That frown can't be just from control," Pennywise said. Anakin did not respond. "Come now, buddy. What's the matter?"

"Nothing, sir," Anakin replied. Pennywise crouched down before the boy, looking him in the face. His smile turned to the image of genuine concern. The two were silent for a while. Pennywise sighed.

"It's your mother, isn't it?" Anakin was stunned that he knew. This must be a test, he thought. He decided to play along; this was probably a dressed-up Jedi Consular on a training routine.

"I miss her," he responded. His shoulders and head drooped.

"Aw. Love is the best thing a child should feel for their mother, right?"

"Master Yoda says that we must learn to let go of everything," Anakin said, his voice growing weaker. He did believe Yoda, but to follow on this path of peace was more painful than he could have imagined.

"Mm. You can love someone without them being right there, right?" Pennywise's voice was now soothing; not quite in the way that Qui-Gon's or Yoda's was - it was smoother, more carressing. "But you can always have them there in your heart."

"I guess..." Anakin was close to crying.

"Come here," Pennywise beckoned. He seated himself in front of the window, looking out at the sunset which was now growing darker by the minute. Anakin followed. The two sat looking out for several minutes.

"It's a big world out there, ain't it, Ani?" Pennywise said.

"Yes."

"You've got a lot of love in you, kid. For your mom, your friends, for the world."

"Yes, sir."

"See, love ain't so bad. And you've got a crush on someone, don'tcha?" Anakin blushed. He couldn't tell him about Padamé, the Counsel would go nuts if they knew. Pennywise scrunched a sidewise smile and giggled.

"And if you come with me, I can take you anywhere in the Galaxy!" he continued. "Anywhere! Mandalore! Ryloth! Or even… Naboo?" Anakin hesitated. Something still didn't feel right. He searched his feelings.

"Master Yoda said that I am to stay here," Anakin replied.

"A Jedi can learn about the Force wherever he is, right?" Pennywise said. "Come on, I know you wanna get out of here." Anakin began to feel nervous. This was going far even for a training exercise.

"Everything I know is here," Anakin said.

"You know this place gets boring," Pennywise insisted. "Follow me." He stood up and beckoned the boy.

"No," Anakin said, more firmly. Pennywise grabbed Anakin's arm and began to pull. Anakin's fear burst to the surface. Anakin pulled back, and as he did, he sensed Obi-Wan's presence as he had learned to identify it. He must have sensed Anakin's fear, and was now approaching the room.

Anakin's fear was delicious. Pennywise felt it tear through the boy as he began to more frantically try to free himself. Pennywise grasped even harder, pulling the boy close. As he did, he felt something else in the boy, something powerful. He pushed the boy to the ground and pinned him down. Anakin was now screaming.

"Oh you'd better be afraid, boy," it said. "I'm a kind of evil you've never even DREAMED of!" The clown was biding its time, seeing just how far the boy's fear could go.

The door to the room slid open and Obi-Wan rushed in to see Anakin on the floor, screaming to an empty room. He hurried to the boy's side.

"Anakin!" he yelled. The boy continued to struggle against the empty air. He grabbed Anakin's arm, letting the serenity of the Force flow onto him in the hopes of calming him down. Anakin, now with both his arms captive, one to this monster and the other to his master, began to feel a rush, as if the Force was present within his muscles. Pennywise, unwilling to let the delectable fear slip away, grabbed ahold of Anakin's throat, and squeezed. To his left, Anakin saw the image of his mother, mutilated and dead, soaked in her own bowls and blood and slumped on the temple wall. Her eyes were entirely lifeless. The clown opened his fanged mouth, preparing to take the first bite of the boy.

The feeling Anakin felt now solidified as rage. The hate flowed through him. As the clown's mouth approached, Anakin let out a burst of energy which sent the clown flying backward, slamming into the opposite wall of the room. Obi-Wan was also thrust backwards, slicing himself on the sharp corner of the open door.

"Oof!" the clown said it said as it impacted. The thrust knocked the clown into a momentary daze. He looked down to see his arm missing, and back up to see it firmly in Anakin's hand, white-knuckled into a fist. This was clearly not going anywhere. At least not yet. Pennywise could not turn down a meal like this, but maybe it would take a few more years than he had anticipated. The clown moved and slipped out of sight. At once, Anakin's vision cleared. Obi-Wan was back over him, with part of his robe wrapped as a tourniquet around his arm.

"Anakin! Anakin!" he called out. He sensed the boy calming down, but still incredibly shaken. "Are you alright, Anakin?" Anakin passed out. Obi-Wan exhaled a breath that he had been holding for too long, and picked up the boy with his good arm. He was going to have some real explaining to do to the High Counsel.


	2. Chapter II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the failed attempt at feeding on Anakin, Pennywise assumes a new form and torments Anakin's friend Rafyki, another Jedi Youngling.

Rafyki took the holodisplay handpiece, lifting it as quietly as he could so nobody would hear.  She held in a giggle.  Placing her crystalline finger webs in front of the projector to focus and charge the beam of light once it was on, she continued trying to hide her bubbly feelings from the Jedi masters in the other room.  Ani was in for a shock!  She pointed the projector at Ani’s rear.  She projected the Force into the machine.  Nothing.  She looked at the handpiece, looking for damage.  Seeing nothing, she shook it.  She pointed it again at her unsuspecting fellow youngling.  Again nothing happened.  She felt a strong presence in the Force.

“Padawan Rafyki,” she heard in all too distinctive a voice.

“Yes, Master Windu,” she said, the disappointment she felt for the sudden end to the fun all the more sour over her dread of the lecture she would receive for this.

“Turn around,” the Jedi Master said.  She complied.  “What brings you away from your robe washing?”  Rafyki held in that it was the most boring of all their chores.

“I did not know it was time, Master,” she said.

“Have you not yet learned that we can sense your feelings, young Padawan?”  Master Windu asked.  “Do not lie to your teachers.  Get to your chamber and reflect on this until saber practice.  We shall speak about this later.”

“Yes, Master Windu,” she said, and began to trudge her way to her meditation chamber.  She could not decide if she really liked being here.  She had been here since she was four, a solid three years.  She barely remembered her life back on Anaxes before being taken to Coruscant.  The Jedi here were so rough, so stern.  She pondered what life outside this place was like as she made her way down the long, dull hallways of the temple.  Her pace quickened, the walls lighting up with pictures of life on the millions of planets she had always heard about.  Her imagination was what kept her going here, not the bleak, almost sorrowful philosophy of selfless sacrifice she was taught.  What was the temple food like on other planets?  The ceiling was populated by kids swinging from the overhead arches.  Could they eat at any time they wanted?  One child sat on a ceiling ledge eating from  _ two _ temple food capsules.  Daydreams like this came to her naturally on a daily basis, at least when no Jedi Masters were around to scold her for inattentiveness.

Her imagination was soon interrupted by the fatigue in her legs.   _ These hallways are so long _ she vented to herself.  Even so, this walk seemed extra long.  She looked at her surroundings.  She held in a swear -- hoping no other Jedi would sense her desire to do so, or that she even knew such words.  She was in the wrong area of the temple.  It would take forever to get back to her chamber!  She turned back and began to run towards the other end of the hall.  The children in the walls stood still in her vision.  Her four eyebrows clenched tight.  She hated this feeling.  She couldn’t quite describe it, but she was angry, and upset, and her only outlet to the outside world froze up.  The children in the wall wouldn’t even cry, their faces blank as they stared at her.

She panted, slipping finally into the meditation chamber after a run that lasted far too long.  Her legs let out beneath her.  She caught her breath.  The feelings of anger at Windu and the Jedi lingered.  She looked up.  The sun set behind the Coruscant skyline.  The angry feelings withered in the radiance of the brilliant crimson sky.  There was something to these chambers, she knew, almost as if it was impossible to stay upset here.  The automatic door slid silently closed behind her, leaving her now in pitch darkness save for the sun’s intense vibrancy.  She stared at the light, the children now swinging on the edges of the buildings on the Coruscant cityscape, flipping acrobatics from one fa çade to the next, laughing and swirling in the air.  Even though it wasn’t standard Jedi meditation, watching these fantastic imaginings seemed to have the same effect.   _ Freeing the imagination is _ , Yoda himself had told her.   _ And if calm it makes you, see harm in it, I cannot. _  If there was one Jedi she adored, it was Master Yoda.  Only he ever made her laugh, or even spoke to her like a person.  She put her head down, resting her chin on her crossed arms, themselves resting on her knees.  One of the children grabbed ahold of the spire on one of the city’s residential buildings, lifting her legs straight over her head and backflipping over the main Senate tower, quite a leap!  The girl landed on a spire on the other end of the horizon, then pushing with her legs to catapult herself over to the Supreme Court, somersaulting too many times to count.  The sunset continued to fade.

The other children on the horizon tried to keep up with this acrobatic wonder-girl, but with no luck.  She outdid them in every leap she took, her heights ever increasing.  Rafyki pulled herself to the edge of the windowsill and peered up past the very top of the window, peering up as close as she could to her zenith as the acrobat girl bounced off the temple ziggurat's side and launched herself to the Obelisk of the Republic and back again.  Rafyki laid on her back, her head to the very edge of the window, the girl now climbing the side of the temple, dancing as she swung on the window ledges of higher floors.  She jumped vertically now, propelling her just to the point that Rafyki could not see, then spun and fell face-first towards the ground below, plummeting perilously down.  Rafyki rushed to flip over and see what happened.  By the time she had, a hand grabbed ahold of the outer edge of the window, followed by another.  Then, the girl’s head popped up from its previous depth.

“Hi!” the girl said, her elbows now crossed on the ledge, supporting her.  Rafyki jumped back a pace, seeing the girl now so close.  “Sorry, did I scare you?”  Rafyki’s lower two eyebrows scrunched.  “C’mon!  It’s just me.  You imagine me all the time.”  She let out a giggle.  “So I saw what you were gonna do to Ani.  Pretty funny, huh?  And that Master Windu, ooph!”

Rafyki managed to let out a little “Yeah.”  The girl stroked her long, red hair, her face still a mish-mash of confusion and anticipation.  “Sorry,” Rafyki said.  “I just usually don’t talk to… I mean…”

“I know.  I do get lonely, though.  Let’s move!” she said as she jumped over to one of the residential towers, her voice unchanged in volume even at the great distance.  “Join me!”

“I don’t think I can do that,” Rafyki said.  “I mean, I can imagine  _ you _ doing it.”

“Nonsense!” the girl said.  “Just open the window and hop on out!  The Jedi Masters do it all the time!”  Rafyki vigorously shook her head, closing and opening her eyes to see if the imaginary girl would vanish.  She didn’t.  The children in the background spun like tops on the spires of buildings on the horizon, all moving now in unison.  The sunset continued to fade to a deep violet.  “Well if you’re not gonna come out here, maybe I should go in there!”  She flipped up over the top of the window.  Rafyki tried to follow her, but she slipped out of visibility.  She could hear rustling on the temple walls.  Within an instant, the door behind her slid open, the light from the temple corridors flooding in with blinding offense to her slit eyes which she darted to cover with her arm.  The girl came and sat beside her as the door slid closed, the plane of light from outside collapsing with it into extinction.  Rafyki shifted uncomfortably.

“Really?” the girl asked.  “You’re afraid of me?”

“No I’m not!” Rafyki said.  “I’m just… I just don’t usually imagine this good.”

“Well I’m here,” the girl said.

“Thanks,” Rafyki said.  “I get lonely too here.”

“Then we can be friends!” the girl said as her arms flew open.  Rafyki smiled.  The sky was now a deep blue.  There was really something about these meditation rooms…  The two sat in silence, watching the children on the outside continue their parkour on the city’s outline.  Some of the kids now began to leap from one speeder to another as they made their way across the horizon.  The girl slid herself to sit right next to Rafyki, their shoulders reclining on one another.  Rafyki exhaled, her breath sliding out with delectable ease.

“Thanks for imagining me,” the girl said.

“You’re welcome,” Rafyki said, now more comfortable than ever.  “Thanks for being my friend.”

“Of course I am,” the girl said.  “I’d hate to not like the only person I’ll ever know.”  Rafyki turned her head towards the girl.  She wasn’t there.  She looked back at the window.  The girl was again outside, beckoning with her hand for Rafyki to come outside.

“I can’t!” she protested.  “You’re not real like me!”

“Yes I am!” the girl said.  In just that instant, the window in front of her shattered, the warmth of the Coruscant summer’s night flooding in and stealing the cool air of the chamber.  Rafyki let out a short scream, then caught herself, shoving her hands to cover her mouth.  She stared, bewildered at the sight of the shattered glass.  What would the Jedi masters say about this?  She walked towards the window, if for no other reason than to check that this was indeed real.  “Come on!” the girl said, “Jump!”  Rafyki stared, her eyes agape.  “Join me!” the girl continued. “Do it!” she said, now with an irritation to her voice.  Rafyki’s eyes began to tear up.  “Come on!”  Her voice now deepened.  Rafyki began to cry.

“Stop!  You’re scaring me!” she pleaded.  The girl’s face turned to disgust and rage.  Her hair turned to dishevelment in the wind, and her face grew bleach-pale.  The wind in the room picked up, pushing Rafyki to the ground as she tried to backed up, beginning to make her way to the door.  Menace swept across the girl’s face as she let out a growl.  Rafyki scrambled to her feet and ran to the door.  It would not open.  She pleaded for help, hoping one of the Jedi would sense her distress and come to help.  She heard a screech.

***

Anakin walked through the temple corridors, measuring his steps as Master Obi-Wan had taught him.  His mind still wandered as it had when he had first began his training, the fits and spurts of emotional distraction interrupting his concentration on the moment.  He shook his head, his padawan braid still also serving as a nuisance more than a reminder of his teaching -- at least a nuisance which also took his mind off the shock he still felt from destiny and the universe suffocating him with their weight, and from the events of the past six months since he had joined the academy.  As he walked, a sense of cold passed over him.  But this cold felt distinctly different from the general unease of the Dark Side.  This sense felt different somehow, queasy in a sense, somewhat dank, similar to the feeling one would get after smelling rubber which had passed its better days.  As he continued down the corridor, his mind would not leave this feeling, a presence he had not felt since…

He stopped in front of one of the doors in the hall, one of the meditation chambers.  His mind flooded with unease.  His muscles tensed.  The coldness had turned to a sense of pure hatred, the memories of the previous attack by that monster flooding back.  He felt the rage of that day boil back to the surface which had first come about when that thing had desecrated the image of his mother.  He wanted to run, to be as far away from that feeling as he possibly could, and yet he felt compelled to open the door.   _ Stop! _ Yoda called to him from his memory.   _ When afraid you feel, first calm yourself you must.  Breathe.  What fear you to happen?  Momentary pain and discomfort -- a Jedi moves beyond these things.  Confront that which the Force wills, you must. _  Anakin stood at the door, his mind stirring over these words.  Holding his eyes closed, he let the Force flow through and guide his hand, his heart still in palpitations as he tried to keep his focus on Master Yoda’s teachings.

His eyes slid open as the door did in like fashion.  A gurgling growl greeted him.  Pennywise the clown sat, his eyes the same reddened menace he had seen the day they had last met, his teeth sharp and his face full of blood.  Under him was his good friend Rafyki, mutilated.  Anakin’s anger erupted to the surface, the shards of glass on the floor beginning to lift from their rest.   _ No! _ he heard in his mind, as Yoda would have disciplined him.  But before he could focus to try to resolve his feelings, the wind in the room came to stillness, and the clown was gone.  Anakin looked at the body of his friend.  His heart continued to race as his eyes darted around the room.  The cold feeling was gone now.  He backed up, turning to go to tell one of the Masters.  Just at that moment, he felt the presence of Master Windu approaching.  Anakin ran to meet him.

“Master Windu, sir!” he yelled as the Master turned the corner into that section of the hall.

“What is it, young Skywalker?” Windu asked.  Anakin stopped short in his tracks.  Could Master Windu not feel the tragedy that had just happened?  He struggled with words.  “I said what is it, young Skywalker?” Windu implored.  Anakin could not muster the strength to inform him.  “If you are distressed, I advise you to go seek your Master Obi-Wan.  I must go to fetch padawan Rafyki.”  Anakin’s feelings consumed him, and in response the boy screamed.  No words ushered forth, just a raw sound of anguish.  He fell to his knees and began to sob.

***

The Coruscant sky was now a deep blue, darker than royal but not quite black.  A tightrope extended from the Supreme Court to the residential towers.  There, caressed by the slowly cooling night air, over the tens of thousands of vehicles which permeated the planet’s atmosphere, Pennywise stood, the blood on his face quickly congealing into solidity.  The cool wind stood in ugly contrast to the blood’s warmth, Pennywise thought.  He took a springy step forward, the rope jiggling and jostling beneath him.  In his hands was a saxophone, whose sound he had learned to adopt and love on some faraway planet.  He looked at the instrument, his gut not quite ready to resume the splendors of the sound.  Nevertheless, he put the reed to his makeup- and clot-stained lips, and began to play.  The notes reverberated in the expanse of the city’s vast openness.  His fingers fondling the keys, he closed his eyes and leaned back into the music, his one leg lifting into the air as he held his balance on the swaying wire with the other.  The wind felt so nice in his billowing hair.  He know nobody could hear him, and that was perhaps for the better.  Nobody wanted to know what he was, or what he did to children like that little Jedi girl in the window.  His stomach growled, and his mind was pulled from the melody, back to that blond human boy.  He was still not ready.  This kid was nothing like he had ever tried.  There was something about him… A small, still-wet drop of blood careened down his chin.  Pennywise considered the globule, feeling all the millions of emotions with which he had learned to associate it over the billions of years he had been feeding.  The notes of the saxophone again took hold of his mind, the sound of the woodwind solidifying the bittersweet mood of the whole moment.  He spun around on the wire and danced, his fingers moving automatically to keep up the tune.  He played for a long, long time, and then faded away into the midnight.


	3. Chapter III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Anakin begins to reconcile with the trauma of Pennywise's previous visits with the help of Jedi Masters Yoda and Obi-Wan, Pennywise trawls the underworld of Coruscant, finding what he might surmise as a good time in the process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is substantially more gruesome than the previous two. Those with easy stomachs, tread lightly or perhaps accord yourself with other reading. Also, please bear with me as I acquaint myself with the text formatting options and standards here. I am still working on finding the best layout of text.

  
  
Anakin sat in Yoda’s chamber, his muscles sinking into the alluring comfort of the Force, the cold feelings of his bath giving way to the warm feelings of the light.  Another shiver shot through his body from his head down, but the boy let out a breath and continued to focus on his submission into meditation.

“Good,” Yoda said, his voice exuding a sense of true happiness.  “Calm you are.  At peace.  Now, what saw you?”

“That thing,” Anakin said.  He felt lifted, the weight of the monster’s image passing by like sand through his fingers for the first time.  “The memory of what happened.”

Yoda sighed.  “Believe it real, do you?”

“I don’t know.  I think so.  It felt real.”  The memory of its cold feel tore through his mind, followed by the embarrassment of having tarnished his place of rest in his night terror.  Yoda closed his eyes.

“That which haunts the mind, real it is not.”  Anakin did not stop squirming, and the fire in his mind began to spread.  Yoda touched the boy’s chest, his three knurled fingers resting there gently for a moment.  “Feel me do you?”

“Yes.”  They boy’s eyes remained closed.  Yoda removed his hand.

“Feel my presence do you?”

“Yes.”

“Afraid do I make you?”

“No, sir.”

“Your feelings, real do they make things.  Without them, empty your world would be.  Fear me you do not, trust me you do.  See me not for the teeth I have, or the green skin.  At peace is your soul when you think of me.  See with your eyes that which your mind believes, mislead you will be.  The monster, deceive you it will, attack you it can, but harm you it cannot.”  Anakin sat, his fear again sinking into peace.  He thought of the clown, its teeth, as he had when he opened the door to Rafyki’s room.  Then he remembered something…

“I trusted it.  It came to me, it was like a friend at first.”  Yoda nodded.  “It told me about myself, it knew my feelings.  I felt calm.”  Yoda hummed.

“Knows you it does.  The Dark Side, lures us with passion.  Care for us will it seem.  Then capture us it will, and fall into fear we do, trapped we become.”

“This didn’t feel like the Dark Side.  It felt…” the boy paused.  “Different.”

“No difference.  The light, the dark, that which is between them… separated by our perceptions they are.  The Force has no sides.  The Jedi code, for _us_ it is -- the Force, preserves all life it does, not one over another.  Its energy connects us, and in it, alone we can never be.”

“Master Windu couldn’t sense it at all.”

“Come for you it has.  But fear not.  For each of us has something come.”

“How can I beat it if nobody else can see it?”  Yoda looked at the boy, his eyes and ears held in stillness.

“Prepare yourself to be afraid.  Knows what you fear it does, and present you with those things it will.  But if present in the Force you are, strike you it cannot.”  Something moved in the corner of Anakin’s vision.  His stillness was broken, his head snapping to see what it was.  The fear of the monster again came up, this time consuming him.  His mind returned to his nightmare, the clown’s hands on his throat, the full weight of his body pinning him down.  He panicked, his limbs flailing to rid themselves of the fictitious menace.  He fell backwards out of the backless seat, catching himself with his hands.  The feeling of the ground reminded him that the monster was not there.  The vision vanished.

“I can’t,” he whispered.  Yoda’s ears and head fell as he sighed, shaking his head.

 

***

 

The dreary, free-form melody of the night’s Twi’lek jazz soloist carried on.  Souse took the death stick out of his mouth and reached for another swig of his Mandalorian ale.  Peering again at the dancing girls from his half-credit stool at the back of the hall, his head collapsed into his arm.  The room was spinning.  A warm body plopped into the stool next to him.  The table rocked as a full glass clunked into it and soon thereafter let out the hiss and crack of opening.  It let out a satisfying sigh as it made itself comfortable in the less-than-cozy wooden seat.

“What’s up?” the voice asked.  Souse slowly lifted his heavy head, his bloodshot eyes watering in the light.  It was a clown.

“The fuck d’you want?” Souse stammered out through a slur.  The clown took a swig of his drink.

“To see you, of course!”  Souse’s head slammed back down into the table.

“No you didn’t,” he said, his voice muffled by his arm.

“Sure I did!” Pennywise said.  He noticed that Souse’s death stick, this one in the form of a cigarette as opposed to the usual vile of liquid, was burning perilously close to his fingers.  “You want me to put that out for ya?” he asked.

“No now go away,” Souse said.  Pennywise took another swig and then lifted the death stick out of Souse’s fingers.

“Ey you give, give that back!” he shouted.  He grabbed at Pennywise’s arm, but was too inebriated and weak to put up a serious challenge.  The rest of the patrons of the bar glanced at him and laughed.  “Ey you shut the fuch up, ya hear?!”

“Crazy Soussie fighting himself again,” one patron said to another.  Pennywise took the moment to take a long drag on the stick, nearly wiping it out.  He let out the smoke with an equally long puff into the air.  He chuckled.

“The hell you laughing at, clown?”

“Oh,” Pennywise smirked.  “Just the ridiculousness of this whole scene.  Me being a clown drunk with you at a bar and you being, well… you.”

“The fuck’s that s’posed to mean?” Souse said, lifting his head just enough to take his first swig of his drink in a while.  As soon as he did, he spit it out, the _pffft_ of the onset of laughter powerful enough to knock his head back down, taking the open top bottle with it.  Pennywise caught the bottleneck with his finger just before it had a chance to spill.  Souse peered up from his elbow with his eyes which were now even more watery from drunken laughter.  “Th’fuch is this?” he asked.

“Rule number fifteen of drinking,” Pennywise said.  “Thought you’d know it by now.  No matter how good the night, drinking with a clown is _always_ better.”  Souse’s laughter turned to coughing, then back to laughter.  Pennywise let Souse’s drunkenness flow through his bowels.  He took another swig of the tonic.  The alcohol did nothing for him, really.  No physical chemical could.

“Y’know some’n?” Souse said.  “You’re a good guy.  Y’know that?”  He collapsed back into hysterics.  “Fuckin’ clown.”  Pennywise pulled another death stick out of his jumpsuit.  He flicked it with his gloved finger and it spontaneously lit.

“You want it?” he asked.

“Thanks, man,” Souse said.  Pennywise savoured the feeling of stupor.  Really it was the second best feeling after feeding, and had none of the guilt attached to it.  He especially liked the clown get-up.  He could never quite control what he looked like, although he could influence it.  Drunk men and children especially, all over the universe, they would often imagine clowns, mimes, and other jester-type fluff.  This was no exception.  Just get close to a drunk guy on a late night, do something funny, and _pow!_  Clown-town.  All the same, go near a kid in a dark room, an alleyway, or a sewer, and they’d turn him into all sorts of monsters and spooky things, but clowns seemed to be their go-to.  Souse’s head had drooped back into his elbow and he had gone silent.

“Wanna see a trick?” Pennywise said, not wanting to lose the feeling.

“Sure, go ahead,” Souse murmured, his head still firmly planted.  Pennywise reach behind himself and pulled out a long blue balloon and tapped Souse on the head with it.

“What?” Souse asked.

“Aren’t ya gonna watch the trick?” he asked.

“Sure, go ahead.”  Souse’s head remained down.  Pennywise began batting Souse’s head with the balloon until eventually he raised his head.  “I said sure go ahead!”  Pennywise put the balloon on Souse’s head, balancing it.

“Try keeping the balloon on your head without it dropping or popping!” Pennywise exclaimed.

“Sure that’s no problem, see!” Souse said, balancing it on his head with little difficulty.  A minute passed.  “So what’s the catch?”

“Nothing!  Congratulations, you win!” the clown said, clapping his hands.  Souse rolled his eyes and his head wobbled, but the balloon remained in place.  He reached for one of the unopened drinks on the table.  He opened the cap and the drink exploded in his face.

“Huh hah!  Huh hah!!” Pennywise laughed.  Souse gave the clown a smug look, then felt on top of his head.

“Ha ha, you’re the, you’re th’one people should be l-laughing at,” he said, pulling the balloon safely from off his head.  “I win!”  As he said it, the balloon popped in his hand.  Pennywise cackled in his seat, his legs kicking into the air and the seat tipping precariously backwards.  “Aw to hell with you!” the drunkard said.  Pennywise accidentally kicked the table and his seat was sent flying backwards and he crashed into the floor.

“Oof!” he yelled.  Penny reveled in the drunken euphoria until eventually he felt the feeling begin to wayne.  He looked up.  Souse’s head hung at the table, his mouth beginning to drool.  Pennywise smacked him.  “Get up!”  The drunkard writhed a bit, mumbling something incoherent.  He pushed him again, this time to no results.  Souse’s breathing deepened.  The feeling of inebriation exhausted from Pennywise’s bowels as Souse drifted into unconsciousness.

“Deadbeat,” Pennywise mumbled to himself.  “Just like this whole _fucking_ planet!”  He knocked down the table, taking Souse to the ground with it.  The empty apathy of his daytime life sank in.  He charged outside.  The rest of the bar patrons carried on as usual.

Pennywise’s stomach growled as he meandered through the streets of the lower levels of Coruscant, the pitch-black of the night making only meager difference to the perpetual darkness of filth and shadow which enveloped every region not blinded by a street sign or screen.  He could not tell if the brooding resentment which coursed through him was caused more by the hunger or by his ceaseless frustration at being utterly dependent on other people to feel anything at all.  It had been billions of years;  to say that he was weary of this game was long-gone as an understatement.  He stuck his leg out and tripped a passing Ithorian, taking from the pedestrian the fleeting sensation of irritation.  At least it was something.  He continued down the ceaseless passages, until he turned into a desolate alleyway.  There he saw it.  An adolescent hive rat feeding on a rotting trash heap -- a meal just substantial enough to hold him over for the night.  Pennywise stood at the entrance of the alley, his feet apart and his hands open.  The rat glanced him, holding itself in a timid stillness.  Pennywise’s fanged mouth began to water.  He took a short step forward, and the rat began to scamper back into the alley.  Pennywise ran a few steps in pursuit, then jumped, his body now an ambiguous, ill-defined cat-person-alien in the rat’s eyes.  He landed next to the rat, which swerved to avoid him.  He jumped to catch up, landing this time on the rat’s left, and again to it’s right.  The chase continued for a few moments, Pennywise relishing the feeling of the rat’s pounding, over-enlarged hearts.  Eventually, the chase grew tiresome.  He grabbed the rat with his sprawling clawlike fingers.

 

***

 

Pennywise sat in the five centimetres of pus and liquid rot which had dripped from the bodies which hung suspended mid-air above his head, his eyes red and watering.  Of all the sewers on all the planets he had ever inhabited, Coruscant’s was by far the worst.  His clown hair sagged down from the watery refuse which permeated it, and his clown makeup abided on his face as a nebulous smudged mess.  His fanged grimace pounded into rage as he jabbed another hole into the rat’s skin.  It’s sudden outbreak into spasmodic squirming jilted him as it always had.  He hated that feeling in his hand, and yet the pleasure he took from the actual feeding made it seem worth it.  He jabbed it again, hoping not to hit any vital organs.  Its screaming only amplified his lust for its life, masking for a fleeting moment the burning of the tear which pestered a bleeding scrape on his face.  He snivelled.  Another stab crossed the rat’s belly, this time a slice which turned white before filling with red.  The rat bit his finger, and he cried out.  He held the rat in his hands for a moment, ceasing to torment it.

“I knew you had some fight in you, rat,” he said.  “I was afraid all you ever did was run away from things.”  Another tear dropped from his eyes, congealing some of the rat’s blood on contact.  The rat sank into the initial stages of shock, surrendering to the horrific fate which awaited it.  Pennywise felt a wave of sadness pour over him.  The emotional expressiveness of even the most primitive animals never ceased to astound him.  The rat’s depression only furthered the burning redness of his eyes.  The hunger overcame him.  The rat returned to the clumsy, laboured squirming as maggots slowly began to materialize and rise from its flesh.  Pennywise’s stomach turned, and he became nauseous at the sight of his own horrific doings.  He forced his eyes to remain on the sight as he had for all his innumerable victims, the bringing about of anguish and fear in himself the only way his being could process and digest his meals.  Keeping his eyes wide, he opened his mouth and bit down on the rodent.  The fear and pain in the animal was savory enough, but nothing exceptional.  The rat continued to writhe in his mouth, the taste of the agony masking the putridness of the flesh itself.  It began scraping his face with its claws, its last pull out of shocked numbness exciting him and energizing him to his core.

The writhing came to a halt, and the feelings flooded away from him as the last breath of life escaped the rat.  He swallowed the last bits of feeling he could.  He held the rat in his mouth for a moment, then took it out.

“Come on,” he said as he nudged the rat one last time to see if any life could come back to it.  It remained still.  His heart sank.  “I thought you were a fighter,” he said.  He held the rat in his two hands, almost cradling it.  He looked up, closing his eyes and exhaling a sigh of relief.  A feeling of satisfying fullness washed away the rage, albeit only to be cut into again by the apathy and muted guilt.  His eyes creaked open, the bodies above held in their dreary orbits.  His head sank back to the view of the rat.  Another drop of pus plopped onto his head from above.  He noticed that his leg was itching, likely an infection from the gore in which he sat.  He sat, bringing his knees into his arms, immersed in the pool for a long time…

 

***

 

Obi-Wan’s finger traced across Anakin’s cheek.  It called to his mind how Qui-Gon’s finger had done the same to his own as he passed on into the Force.  He pushed the memory into the recesses of his mind.  He had promised Qui-Gon that he would train this boy, and he would not let his master’s death impair his final wish.  Anakin became calmed, and Obi-Wan could sense the fear in the boy draining out, and the grips of sleep coming soon at hand.

“May the Force be with you, padawan,” he said.  “And good night.”  Anakin remained silent.  Obi-Wan raised from his knee, and exited the room.  Anakin’s eyes opened.  His master’s presence distanced itself as he left down the temple corridors.  With that distance, the fear of that monster flooded back.  Anakin began again to shake, his bladder becoming weak as it had for the last week of nights.  Then, peace.  He sensed Obi-Wan, as if he were physically close.  The images continued to roil in his mind, but there was no fear accompanying them.  He knew that his master was at a distance, and yet this connection seemed so present, so real.  He was never ceased to be amazed by the immense power of the Force.  He looked around at the temple walls, and for once, he felt at home.  His eyes grew heavy.


	4. Chapter IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pennywise bides his time by continuing to torment young Skywalker, to the irritation of the Jedi council, who in turn begin arguing about Anakin's future as a Jedi padawan. The council, Pennywise hopes, will soon understand the nature of his menace.

 

 

Pennywise danced the samba, Anakin shivered, and Master Windu sank his head into his palm.

“Do you see it right now?” Windu murmured through his hands, holding back an aggravated sigh.  Anakin did not know how else to respond, so he let the Jedi sense the answer for themselves.  The circular council of masters and holograms of masters trained their focus on the feelings of the boy, only pouring more fuel on the fire of his fears.  The recurrence of these visions kept the calm presences and teachings of the masters from working, until now the clown appeared to dance in place of the hologram of Master Ki-Adi-Mundi, and not even the presences of Yoda, Obi-Wan, and the entire council could assuage Anakin.  Master Windu raised his head, shaking it.  “Would you like us to have you see a healer?”

“I don’t know!” the boy shouted, not anticipating the intensity of his own response.  Pennywise cackled, his head flying back and whirling with the centrifugal force of his spinning dance.

“I have had enough of this!” Windu exclaimed.  “Master Kenobi, please remove your apprentice, I motion for a consideration of these events by the council members not bound by a master’s dying wish!”

“Yes, master,” Obi-Wan said softly, rushing to sweep the boy out of the room and hopefully salvage some of what reputation he had left on the council.  The boy and his master exited the room, the former’s wailing and screaming nearly deafening Kenobi from such close proximity.  Pennywise continued to dance, thoroughly enjoying the chaos of the scene.

“Master Qui--, Master Kenobi,” Yoda stammered as the door was about to slip closed.  “To my chambers bring him!”  The door shut.  He turned his attention to Master Windu.

“The boy is a danger to the council,” Windu said.  “And we must stop his training.”

“He is distracting us from identifying the Sith lord,” Master Plo Koon added.

“Stop.  Before discussing such matters, reflect we must,” Yoda said.  Windu’s anger roused in him, and Pennywise reveled in it.  The clown scampered to behind Windu’s seat, grasping it with his gloved fingers.

“We are in danger, Master Yoda,” Windu responded.  Pennywise shrugged his head into his shoulders, his grin spreading ear to ear.  He began to spread some of his energy to Master Windu, not enough as to alert the master to his presence, but just enough to egg-on the master’s temper.  “With all due respect,” Windu said, trying to swallow the feelings.

“In danger we may be,” Yoda said, “but rush to action we cannot.”

“It has been half a standard year,” Windu implored, the aggression in his voice rising beyond its temple norm.  Pennywise pushed harder, hoping not to nudge too hard and appear outright.  He began to drool.

“His potential in training makes him an asset to us.  He needs heali--” Master Rancisis chimed in before being cut off.

“Enough about the training!” Windu shouted, holding back a swear.  Pennywise began hopping in place, kicking his legs into mid-air splits, giggling in hysterics.

“Calm yourself, Master Windu,” Yoda chided him.

“I have had it with this motherfucking boy and his clown!” Windu exclaimed.  He turned to Yoda directly.  “He is not the ‘chosen one,’ and his time in our hands must end!” he continued, his hand cupped and fingers splayed.  Pennywise backflipped over the chair, slamming down on his back at the centre of the temple chamber.  He rolled in laughter, the water and face-paint in his eyes blinding him.  He kicked his legs in the air.

“He said it!” Pennywise yelled.  “He finally said it!  Let’s go Windu!”

“Master Windu, down put your hand!” Yoda commanded him.  “Return to yourself.  What has come over you?”

“The ineptitude of this motherfucking council!” Windu said, not backing down.  “Am I the only one in here who understands that this boy killed Padawan Rafyki?!  I call for the removal of Padawan Skywalker AND his Master Kenobi from the Jedi order!”  Pennywise rolled to his feet and began to jump and flail his hands.  To feel any emotion from a Jedi was a treat, but to feel pure rage from a Jedi Master, and, better yet, shock in a Jedi Grand Master was like being tickled on the eyeball.

“I second this motion,” Master Plo Koon said.

“Master Windu, to your chambers go you.  Restless have you become.” Yoda said.  Windu rose from his seat.

“I suppose we will talk later,” Windu said.

“ _ Go _ ,” Yoda implored.

“Maybe then I can talk some sense into you,” Windu continued, pacing towards the chamber door and out of the room.  The door shut behind him.  Yoda scanned the room.

“A discussion on the future of young Skywalker we will have tomorrow.  Before then, compose yourselves, all of you.  Search your feelings.  Great darkness hangs over us, and very cautious we must be.  Be resilient, my knights.  For all of you, the greatest respect I have.  Adjourned is this meeting.  May the Force be with us all.”

“May the Force be with us,” the council members echoed back.  They rose and bowed, exiting the room.  Yoda remained in the room, cross-legged on his stool.  He sighed, and lowered his head into his hands, resting his eyes.  His ears fell.  Pennywise remained, sprawled on the floor, his giggling slowly dying out.  Yoda’s eyes clenched.  He was silent for a minute.

“Be gone,” he said.  “Darkness, belong here you do not.  A place of peace this is.”

Pennywise slowly rose from his resting.  He might as well leave.  The fun was somewhere else.

 

* * *

 

Anakin sat, curled in Kenobi’s embrace, the cold wetness from his tears saturating his master’s robes.  The boy could sense the hate from the council members.  That feeling, and furthermore the knowledge that the Masters could feel such things at all, made the pain of all this all the more excruciating.

“They will come around,” Kenobi said, this the fourth time in a row he had uttered the statement.

“They hate me,” Anakin said.

“They hate what happened,” Obi-Wan said.  “And I will not leave you, even if they do.  I made a promise to Master Qui-Gon, and I will not let them hurt you.  You are my apprentice, Anakin.”

“What did Master Qui-Gon teach you about promises?” Anakin asked.  Obi-Wan paused.

“That we should keep them except where we sacrifice them to the greater good,” he replied.  A coldness grew over them.  Master Windu walked by in the next hall down, his presence nagged by something, as if he were seeing something shocking.  The coldness faded.

Pennywise peaked into the room from around the corner, the door which sealed it making no difference to the clown’s view.  He slid into the room and behind a sofa, still jittery from the excitement in the council room.  The fear in the boy was now more a mixture of confusion and a sense of betrayal.  These feelings clashed poorly with the clown’s giddiness.  He resolved to change this.  Something moved in Anakin’s peripheral vision, and he looked to see what it was.  Part of the wall of the room was missing, unveiling behind it a pitch darkness.  The boy’s stomach churned.

“Master!” he yelled, grabbing tightly his master’s robes.  He peeked again to see more of the wall falling away into the darkness.  Pennywise raised his head from behind the sofa.  Anakin screamed and scampered towards the exit.  He looked behind him to see the clown now fully in front of the furniture, which was now too being sucked into the void.  Anakin slammed into the door, wanting it to open, but instead was burned.  He looked to see the door glowing red and white with heat.

“Heya Ani boy!” Pennywise said, his grin bearing his discoloured, misshapen teeth.  Anakin tumbled to the floor, the room now a dizzying vortex of debris and dust.  “Whats’a matter?  At least you said ‘hello’ last time!” he said, giggling.  “I’ve got a present for ya!”  He took out his fist from behind his back.  He threw its contents at Anakin, a pile of sand blasting into the boy’s face.  “Your favourite!  See, I know ya, don’t I?!”  The boy writhed on the floor as the sand burned his eyes from the direct hit.  “It’s my special Bad Joke Sand!  It’s irritating!  And it gets  _ everywhere! _  Huh-hah!  Huh-hah!”  The boy’s fear was overshadowed by the pain.  “Here, lemme get that for ya’!” he said as he washed the sand away from the boy’s eyes with a stream of water squirting from a flower pendant on his clown jumpsuit.

Anakin reöpened his eyes, the redness and irritation still making the white of the clown’s face too painful to look at directly.  A heat came over him.  Looking around, the darkness of the background was quickly giving way to a fire which engulfed his whole vision.

“Anakin!” he heard.  The boy turned to look, and saw his master, his face drooping and melting in the fire.  “Anakin!” Kenobi said again, this time his voice sounding much deeper than before.  Anakin backed away from the horror, and into the flames.  As the fire began to tug at his flesh, a rage began to consume his insides.  Something dark came over the boy.

“I hate you!” Anakin hissed from the flames, not sure if it was meant more for the clown, the deformed Kenobi, or the council.

“Anakin!” he heard again, this time the voice sounding like his master’s normal voice.  At once the vision was gone, and Anakin found himself coddled by his master.  He looked up, and the room was there, albeit all the furniture displaced and the floor scratched by their having been moved.  A tear dropped onto Anakin’s head.

 

* * *

 

Pennywise waited for the last Jedi master to exit the shower hall and turn off the lights before slipping inside.   _ Might as well give them their privacy _ , he thought,  _ I don’t have to be  _ completely _ evil _ .  He took out his saxophone and began playing to himself.  The giddiness of the day having still not left him, his bloodless heart danced to the rhythm of the woodwind.  Occasions like these were what he lived his entire life to feel, being able to dance by himself alone in an a dark shower.  No dependency on others for his emotions.  Just him and his sax.  He blew as hard as he could.  The walls of the shower hall shook as he slid his weight from one leg to another and back again.  His dancing became more erratic, his moves ramming themselves to the corners of his body.

Suddenly he felt the oncoming of another to the shower hall.  He bitterly slipped out of his celebratory mood.  The lights flicked on.  Master Kenobi entered the shower hall, his waist towel drenched with what Pennywise could only figure were tears given the Jedi’s emotional state.  The clown suddenly came back to his happiness.  This would be fun.

Master Kenobi heard the door slam behind him and then the sound of its locking.  The lights turned off and the water turned on.  Four notes on a saxophone introduced a red glow coming from behind his back.  Kenobi turned, seeing before him the horned Sith which had killed his master, shrouded in red glow, and his double-bladed sabre deactivated and to his mouth, producing the music.  The room vibrated under his feet.  The Sith, looking down at his “instrument” bore a menacing grin.  It looked slowly up at Kenobi, in its eyes a jeering, taunting joy.  The water turned a boiling hot.  Kenobi, dazed out of his normal senses, slowly marched towards the Sith, projecting all the feelings which had driven him to fight and bisect the Sith almost a year previous.  The Sith danced away from Kenobi, hopping and skipping in a circle as Kenobi attempted in vain to force choke the intruder.

“Hey Obi-dopey,” the Sith said, lifting his head from the music for a few beats.

“You will be brought to justice,” Kenobi said, only half meaning justice in the judicial sense.  The Sith lowered his head back to the sabre tip, producing a few more notes before the weapon accidentally activated and pierced his face.

“Oops!” it said.  It lifted the sabre out of its head vertically, totally cleaving its head until the smaller half plopped down to the side, still connected at the neck.  The demon smiled again, its yellow and black teeth offending Kenobi’s vision.  Kenobi lunged at the Sith, who in turn spun and danced out of the way, dropping the sabre to the ground.  Kenobi pulled the sabre to his hands and activated it, chasing the devil.  The Sith danced and jeered in every direction, pausing occasionally to stick out his tongue, wag his hands, and wiggle his fingers, his eyes crossed in bullying menace.  Each step and each drop of scalding heat further enticing Kenobi to the Dark.  The Sith turned and wiggled his rear at Kenobi, who jumped to tackle him.  The body collapsed under the Jedi Master’s weight, almost disintegrating.  Obi-Wan looked down, the red glow of the Sith now a very light green.  The body was burned, lying face-down under Kenobi’s knees.  He turned the body’s head, prepared to sink his red blade into the demon, his eyebrows clenched in rage.  The face of the body appeared.  It was Master Qui-Gon’s, burned as it was at his cremation.

“Obi-Wan,” the body called out.  “Obi-Wan, is that you?”  The voice was soft just as Kenobi remembered it.  Kenobi held silent for a moment, the sudden change bringing him back to the reality that this was an illusion.  “Obi-Wan, train the boy,” the body said.  Obi-Wan stood, his eyes filled with tears of rage.

“You’re nothing,” Kenobi said, clenching the dual blade.  Jinn looked at the blade.

“A red blade,” Jinn said.  “Have you abandoned everything I taught you?”

“This is  _ your _ blade,” Obi-Wan said, raising the blade above his head.

“Obi-Wan!  Stop!  What did I teach you about revenge?  Needless violence always has a way of catching up to us, one way or another.”

“This isn’t revenge,” Obi-Wan said.  “This is justice.”

“You’ve changed, my apprentice.  Stop now while you still can.  I sense the Dark Side in you” Qui-Gon said.  “Remember, your focus determines your reality.”  Obi-Wan paused, the hot water zinging quietly against the trembling blade in Kenobi’s hand.  “ _ Think _ .”

Obi-Wan deäctivated the blade and threw it to the side.  He awaited the demon’s next move.  Nothing came.  The light returned to the room, and the water turned to cold.  The door unlocked.  The council would hear about this.

 

* * *

 

The clown slid down the pipes, enjoying every bump and turn in the ride.  Hopefully these meetings would ensure that that boy stayed in the Jedi’s care.  The last thing he wanted was for that tender meat to be anywhere other than the place he resented most.  At least now members of the council could also attest that the boy wasn’t crazy.

Pennywise let out a guttural utterance as he collided with the sewer ground beneath him.  The giddiness was still in him.  He laid down in the muck of the sewer, his hair instantaneously turning into matted confusion.  He took out his saxophone, dirtied in every area by the splash of refuse.  He put it to his mouth and began to play, the flavour of the filth detracting nothing from his daze of euphoria and fulfillment.  He played for several hours until the feeling faded, slipping once again into the darkness.

 

 


	5. Chapter V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pennywise senses something interesting in a certain Sith Lord, and proceeds to have the time of his life toying with him.

“Ugh… Fuck...” the clown murmured as he reached the end of the sewer pipe on a cliff at the northern end of the Great Western Sea of Coruscant. Another exasperated heave of breath came as he made one final heave to exit the pipe. He greeted the fresh grass with a sigh of relief. He took a moment to absorb the scenery, then took to continuing to feverishly rubbing the blood off his mouth. He couldn’t even tell if what he was wiping off was blood or makeup, but he didn’t care. He never did. He sat up and looked out at the sky, the bones of his back cracking as they exited the stiff, twisted line they had inhabited for the last two hours of pipe spelunking. The clouds of the planet never ceased to entrance him.

The music of his sax poured through his ears, but the melody only served to insult him. The mood just wasn’t right. The instrument itself appeared to his left, but the sound came not from the instrument itself, instead choosing to reverberate ambiently throughout the planet’s surface. He looked at the waterfall next to him, the small trickle of refuse absorbing into the cascade of fresh water which poured over a cliff which must have been twenty stories high. He stuck his hand in the water, not removing his soft cotton glove. The music grew louder. Pennywise growled. The sound of small feet moving in the grass summoned him. His head turned, more automatically than willingly.

“Fuck you,” he said through clenched teeth as Mia, his most recent lunch, stood, the saxophone reeds in her mouth. His stomach churned and the music grew louder, the melody stronger. She danced at the edge of the cliff. He would would push her over the edge if he knew it would make any difference, just as he would all his victims’ spirits. She stepped over the edge, spinning in passion on the open air. Pennywise had no idea if she could actually play saxophone in real life or not, but he couldn’t have cared less about the matter. He shoved his gloved fingers in his ears, only mildly muffling her now blaring tune. She skipped across the sky, remaining level with his line of sight, towards a horizon dotted with the barely visible spirits of the billions of other child victims he had accrued over the æons of his life. He looked down, seeing now the doll she had carried when he grabbed her. He threw it over the edge, its splash into the water inaudible over the howling music. He looked back up to see her face, slowly decaying into the same unintelligible mush worn by all the other dancers on the horizon. He could only snicker at her, these images and feelings necessary for his digestion. She wouldn’t care. She was dead.

The hallucinations began their usual course of increasing in distaste, with grotesque and needlessly violent scenes beginning to pollute the horizon with jumping and jeering dead children. Pennywise closed his eyes, letting out a laboured sigh. Before his mind’s eye were now the racing images of thousands of imagined conversations, each scene being long-ago made stale and worn-out by billions of years of overuse after having run out of stories to tell himself. Each successive scene bore a sensation of instant boredom lasting not long enough for him to thoroughly appreciate it before he rushed to recall another to take its place. Nevertheless, his eyes remained closed, the imagined conversations preferable to reality for him in every conceivable measure -- at least within them he could pretend as though he could speak his mind freely to another living being, freed from the constraint of being at the eternal mercy of other beings’ imaginations to put words in his mouth. He pined for the first few million years of his life, where new stories were possible and where the sensation of being trapped in an eternity of subservience to others to serve as proxies for his own emotions had not yet fully settled in. Rattling him now out of his fancies was a substantial nudge from behind. His eyes bolted open, revealing to his side a horrifically disfigured child bearing a lumpy and bulbous head which jittered and jerked with uncanny dis-appeal. Pennywise would have been frightened at the sight in his youth, but the effect had long since gone. He would rather empathise with the creature if he could, but in the absence of that possibility he turned his attention away from the sight. He looked at the cliff face, stood up, and jumped off.

The music was unstopping as he rose to the surface of the frigid water. Reaching the air, he began to feverishly swim across the surface, his head down and away from the chaos above. His arms and legs beat the water, the splashes leaving his limbs stinging. He did not know how long he had been swimming when over him came a coldness. He looked up, and the children were gone, and in their place were three ships flying, the lead of which was far greater than the the two behind it. Pennywise felt sadness aboard that ship. He followed it, not sure if his tired arms were being motivated more by intrigue or hunger. The ship slipped out of view over the horizon as he struggled to keep up his swimming with the supersonic craft. Falling into fatigue, he let out his breath and began to sink, bubbles sputtering up as he slowly submerged. A few minutes passed before he began gagging, the sudden sensation of drowning coming over him. He rushed to the surface, and, reaching it, violently shook his head, letting out a brbrbrbrbr through his reverberating cheeks, and cleared his throat, and continued swimming.

***

“You feeble, drunken old fool!” Sidious said, the his of his voice failing to echo in the empty chamber. His eyes were filled with the coldest hatred Pennywise had ever seen. “Your self-indulgent quest for immortality cannot save you from the power of one trained on power over the entire galaxy.” Sidious stepped forward a few paces towards the empty centre of the room, stepping down the three steps that separated his seat from the entrance. He raised his finger. “And now you will see the true power of the Dark Side.” The rest of his fingers rose to join his first, and electric began to pour out of them. Pennywise sat in the corner behind a curtain, entranced by the display. The electric stopped. “I do not mean to torture you and bring you back, to prove a point. No. I intend to send you over the threshold to which you thought you had become immune. You trained me, and for that I will be indebted to you. But now your purpose has expired, and I am the one who will rule the galaxy. Never think that I intended to share power with you. You were a pawn in the larger plan, one in which I rule the galaxy alone. You thought you had broken the Rule of Two, but see now that you were mistaken.”

The electric continued, the rancor on the Sith Lord’s face intensifying further, his eyes cemented in a frosty stillness, the pupils reduced to small, vacuous craters. He took a few steps forward, dominating the centre of the room. “You tortured others in order to perpetuate yourself. Now feel the power of the Dark Side from their perspective.” He gnashed his teeth. The electric ravaged what remained of the smouldering carpet. “I will rule the galaxy!” the Sith yelled. “Look at you in your smallness! Curled on the floor, a helpless wreck! You thought you could belittle me. You took me as a fool. That boy you created, he is mine!” The electric flooded the floor, and began to climb up the deep crimson curtains in the corners.

Pennywise rushed to get out of the way of the fire. He glared in amazement at the demonstration before him. In billions of years, he had never felt such pure hatred as he did now in this Sith. The anger was broken only by a whiff of sadness, the origin or purpose of which Pennywise could not discern. Suddenly there was a happiness rising. Palpatine walked back up the stairs, a sudden gust of wind rattling the room and killing the fires. The Sith looked back at the ruined centre of the room, staring at it, the feelings of absolute dominance, self-criticism, and mediocrity vying for power in his heart, each emotion layering over the other and overwhelming it, totally consuming his mind, like massive waves in all directions breaking and crashing over one another. The rip current left in the wake of the feelings dragged the clown’s heart in every direction, leaving him no option but to submit to their power.

A hailing signal from a communication beacon interrupted the Sith’s performance. All at once, the feelings retracted, as if the Sith had compacted that ocean into a wineglass. Nute Gunray appeared on the handheld holodisplay.

“What is it?” Sidious asked, the menace wiped from his face, and a calm, rested mask asserted itself in its place. Well this will simply not do! Pennywise thought to himself.

“My Lord, we have word from Geonosis,” the Neimoidian said.

“Tell me,” Sidious replied. Wat Tambor replaced Gunray on the display. Wasting no time, Pennywise took control of the scene. Loud electronic music began to blast from Tambor, and the Skakoan began to bob to the beat. Sidious stared in amazement at the brashness of this display. “Is this a joke?” Sidious asked. Tambor ignored the question, silently continuing to dance.

“The Techno Union supports your proposal, Lord,” Tambor eventually said in his mechanized voice. He reached for the knob on his chestplate, and the music grew even louder, the pounding bass beginning to make the walls of the room vibrate. Sidious reached out with the Dark Side, attempting to choke Tambor, to no effect. Pennywise held in a laugh which would have discharged enough energy as to alert Sidious to his presence. Enraged, Sidious pushed the button to deäctivate the device, but it remained on. The music grew louder, and the hologram began to strobe different colours. Sidious began to squeeze the device, crushing it with the power of the Force, but it remained intact. He raised his arm to throw it against the wall, a surge of electricity from his hands coursing through its circuits. Pennywise clenched his lips, the Sith Lord’s hate fueling the laughter he was withholding, which by now would have made his eyes bulge were he in clown form. He decided that had to back off these antics before his head exploded. The music stopped.

“My Lord,” the Neimoidian said as Pennywise allowed the feed to continue as normal. Sidious stopped and slowly lowered the display. Gunray’s head slammed backwards as he saw the look on Sidious’ face, the Sith’s eyes burning into the Neimoidian with an absolute rage.

“You have one chance to tell me what the fuck that was,” Sidious hissed. Gunray stammered for words in typical Neimoidian fashion.

“L-Lord Sidious… I thought you would be pleased!” Gunray pleaded. Pennywise tugged at his hair as Sidious’ pupils shrank even further than they had before. Gunray began to choke.

“You will be aware of one thing, Gunray,” Sidious said. “I am not your toy, you brainless cretin. Without me, you and your federation would be nothing.”

“But… Lord…” Gunray said between coughs.

“There is nothing more for you to say,” Sidious said. “You just threw away your life. You clown.”

“There… are no… clowns here,” Gunray said. Pennywise’s eyes twinkled, then he rushed in to correct the error. Sidious saw Pennywise walk up behind Gunray and rest his arm on the Neimoidian’s shoulder. The clown waved at Sidious, and leaned his smiling head on Gunray’s neck. Gunray’s choking intensified as his red eyes began to bulge out of his head and his skin began to go pale. The Sith’s eyes bulged.

“There’s an actual clown…” Sidious said, his mouth agape. Gunray’s neck cracked, but his body remained standing. Pennywise stuck his tongue out at the Sith Lord, who responded by trying to choke the clown, again to no avail. Gunray dropped to the floor, dead. Palpatine crouched, placing the holodisplay in a cabinet in his desk. He took a long, deep breath. Pennywise considered his options. The pounding bass music from before began to reverberate inside the Sith’s metal cabinet. The Dark Lord began to make his way towards the door.

“Heya Palpy!” Sidious heard from behind himself. He turned, to see nothing, then, the clown slipped into view from the corner of his vision, standing with the same slap-happy grin he always wore. The electronic music came to a halt. “Hope you’re having fun.” The Sith lord remained still, his head peering in silence over his shoulder. Eventually Sidious turned to face the jester. “Whaddaya say about --”

“What is your name?” Sidious asked, searching for feelings within the clown but finding none.

“I, Palpy, am Pennywise the Dancing Clown! Proud to make your acquaintance!” Sidious continued to probe and read him, seeking out any element of humanity or the Force, but again finding only silence.

“Do you need something from me?” Sidious asked, a cool stillness dominating his voice.

“I just wanna be friends. Aren’t you my buddy?”

“Surely we can be friends,” Sidious said calmly. “But first just tell me why you are here.” Pennywise felt a pang of fear in Sidious, the Sith Lord being more cautious and calculating than the clown had hoped. Pennywise looked left and right.

“Can’t we just talk?” he asked. Sidious chuckled.

“You must be here for a reason,” Sidious said, his voice now more direct and frank. “What do you want from me?” Pennywise was unmoved by the Sith’s insincerity. He began to jump up and down.

“Blah blah blah!” Pennywise shouted, then stuck out his tongue and made a farting sound. Sidious stared blankly as Pennywise began to skip around the room. “Woo-hoo! Woo-hoo! Hoo-hoo!” he shouted as carnival music blared through the room.

“Get out of here,” Sidious said, the same menace that had consumed him before rising again to the surface.

“Kiss meh Palpy!” Pennywise shouted before dive-bombing onto the Sith and heaving a gigantic wet smooch. The hate in the Sith was delicious. He wondered if Sidious had ever before been so emasculated. The swelling of hot blood in the Sith’s face suggested otherwise. “It’s all just fun, even the sad bits, Palpy! Laugh a bit. I love your laugh!” Sidious raised his hand.

“Ooooooh!” Pennywise’s high-pitch voice careened across the room as he allowed a surge of electricity knocked him backwards.

“What a waste,” Palpatine said. “We could have been friends.”

“You’re relieved, aren’t you?” Pennywise asked. Sidious stared at him. “Your Force chokey-pokey didn’t work last time, didn’t it?” Sidious’s face contracted. “You’re just glad your electric zippy-zappy worked. You didn’t think it would.”

“You’re keen,” Sidious said, his voice almost snapping. He let another surge of electricity tear through the clown.”

“Woo woo woo woo wooooo!” Pennywise shrieked, his hair standing on end, half-knowing that Sidious was aware that it was an act. He writhed on the floor until eventually the electricity stopped. Pennywise uprighted himself and sat and smiled at the Sith, his goofy face-paint and hair singed and melted by the bolts. He licked his finger and dabbed out a small fire on his jumpsuit-leg. A few moments passed, then Sidious rattled a short final bolt through him sending him into a final shrieking spasm. The silence between them was horrific. Pennywise sat up, his head drooping towards the floor.

“You have no appreciation for camaraderie,” Sidious said. Pennywise remained still. “It is perfectly natural for you to want to destroy me, but doing so will…” Sidious’ words trailed into silence as Pennywise raised his head, his face now ashen, oblong, and frozen in a stoic solemnity. It was the face of a Muun. “You don’t…” Sidious managed to stammer out.

“I have no appreciation for camaraderie, Sidious?” the Muun asked. Sidious limped a step backwards. “Tell me, Sidious, who was it who taught you all that you know? Who was it who wanted nothing more than to rule the galaxy by your side, freed from the necessity of hiding?”

“Please don’t!” Sidious cried.

“Don’t do what, Sidious?” Plagueis continued. “I have no intention of killing you, unlike the feelings you still harbor for me. I, for one, have transcended the physical world. It seems as though you are still its servant.” Sidious’ eyes hardened, though a palpable terror still abounded in them. Pennywise stepped towards Sidious, the Sith’s hundreds of emotions tearing past each other in the clown’s awareness. Sidious continued to back up, the animosity of a cornered animal rising within him.

“You failed, Plagueis,” Sidious hissed. “You cannot rule a galaxy from beyond the grave. Power is for the living, not for those who forfeit their chances to inebriation and delusion. You kill me, and you kill the Sith order.”

“I am not here to discuss politics, Sidious,” Plagueis said. “I am here to talk sense into you.”

“The ramblings of a senile dead man,” Sidious replied. Pennywise watched the conflict between the Sith and his master. A wave of disillusionment came over Palpatine, the recognition that his steely, perpetual, premeditating cool had finally been broken issuing a feeling which overshadowed his already-powerful sense of bewilderment. Palpatine scrambled for words, but could find none, to the dismay of his natural gifts as a politician. “I- I--” Pennywise took another bold step towards the Sith, now literally backing him into a corner. Just attack me already -- the thought stirred in the clown’s mind. You did it before, do it again now.

“No,” Sidious said. “You will not kill me.” Pennywise took a final step towards the Sith Lord, now standing at arm’s distance. The Muun façade contorted with anger as Pennywise projected just enough presence to send the sensation of intimidation, but not outright attack. Suddenly, the Muun was thrown back against the same wall as before, electricity once again flowing through him. “You will die!” Sidious exclaimed. “The Force chose me alone to rule the galaxy! I am the Sithari!” Plagueis writhed in agony as Pennywise allowed the wave of hurt felt by Sidious to circle back to himself, bearing the illusion that the Muun was actually hurt by the bolts. Emboldened, Sidious amplified the power of his attack, even exceeding the enormity he had first experienced when killing Plagueis more than a year previous. Pennywise was captivated by the Sith’s feelings, the urge to hurt others for personal gain and empowerment coursed through Palpatine just as they did in the clown himself.

“Stop!” the Muun begged as the chords of light tore at his body. Pennywise felt lifted by the feelings, as the feelings of control and power surged through him through Palpatine.

“I am invincible!” Sidious exclaimed, allowing the syllables to ring out. The shared sensation lifted Pennywise, a feeling of total and absolute freedom gripping him. “I control life and death as you could not! I will rule everything!” Sidious yelled. A sense of disbelief struck Pennywise. All this power and that is what you choose to say? The Muun’s eyes darkened. You have the freedom to say whatever you want, and you choose self-glorification at your highest moment? Palpatine’s eyes watered with excitement, his hands trembling. Pennywise stood, the electric bolts loafing about his body and leaving no marks. The Sith’s eyes retreated from their prominence.

A mumbling sound emanated from the Muun’s face. Sidious paused and considered the gesture, the electricity fizzling into the æther. Pennywise beamed at the Sith, his Muun eyes carving his feelings into him just as well as words. Sidious held himself in an icy stillness rattled only by an internal uncertainty still overpowered by the fading euphoria. Pennywise raised his hand level to the ground, and in an instant, Sidious’ back was smashed into the wall by an explosion of lightning even more powerful than his own. Pennywise paced to the left, his hand still raised. As another bolt surged forward, it was met by the reciprocating bolts emanating from Sidious, the two laces of luminescent power tangling with each other as if one single stationary bolt connecting the two. Their gazes met, their eyes dripping with tears as much from the brightness of the light as from their mutual unspoken emotions. Sidious’ sense of self-importance only fueled the restlessness in Pennywise as the Muun still struggled to produce coherent syllables. As the ecstasy in the Sith began to wane, and fear again replaced it, he noticed the Muun appearing to grow in size, and the bolts emanating forth from the apparition swelling likewise. Soon Pennywise was crouching to keep his extended forehead from crashing against the chamber’s ceiling, and Palpatine gave way to exhaustion against the torrent of power against him. Sidious became consumed within the bolts, almost invisible behind the huge sea of blinding radiance. Pennywise struggled to produce words, but worried that Sidious would soon be killed by the attack. The frustration only continued to amplify the blaze, Pennywise unable to hold back the need to oblige his fantasy.

A sudden darkness overtook Palpatine as the burning heat of electricity gave way to an emptiness. He felt for a moment as though he were falling, then floating. He looked around, his limbs flailing without resistance, seeing only a consuming vacuum about him. Plagueis was gone, as was his chamber. Is this death? he wondered. He yelled out into the void, the vane hope that someone would come to his rescue soon ruined by the creeping feeling that he had lost his sense of time. The Dark Lord continued to thrash gainlessly, unsure whether he had been there for mere moments or years. Racing thoughts of all he had accomplished -- rising to Supreme Chancellorship, mastering the Dark Side, killing his master, revealing the Sith to the Jedi -- all played in his mind, as did the fear that he had lost them forever, and the loss of all the power that that implied. The thousands of faces from within the Galactic Senate chamber mocked him in his memory as they were unable to save him from his plight. His fingers grasped at the void, searching for some substance to prove to him that he had not lost his power. From out of the darkness there echoed one word. “Alone.”

“Hello!” Palpatine yelled, hoping the voice would answer. He continued flailing. “Help me!” There was no reply.

***

Anakin bolted upwards from his seat, the call for help compelling him to his feet.

“What is it, young Skywalker?” Master Windu asked, his voice bearing the same mild irritation it always bore when addressing the boy.

“Did you sense that?” Anakin asked.

“I only sense unease within you,” Windu replied.

“I hear a cry for help, like someone’s in agony,” Anakin clarified.

“I sense nothing. Have a seat, padawan.”

“We have to go find him!” Anakin implored. He wondered how a Jedi Master like Windu could fail to sense such a palpable plea.

“We will do no such thing. We will return to our studies,” Windu said, projecting now thorough frustration with the boy, but far withheld from the fury the Jedi Master wished to project given the Council's decision to keep the boy within the Jedi Order.

“I can’t believe you don’t sense it,” Anakin pleaded. “Aren’t we supposed to place the safety of others above our own needs?” Windu glared fiercely at him. Anakin refused to let up, remaining silent before the master’s stern gaze. Windu sighed.

“I will fetch Master Obi-Wan. You are to remain here.” Anakin nodded. “Do not move.” Windu exited the learning centre. Anakin complied, returning to is seat, and remaining there. He strained his feelings, searching for whose essence was calling out so urgently. He sensed an incredible fear, as if the universe itself was crying for rescue. He remained seated for a long time, patiently awaiting his master’s presence. But an eternity seemed to pass, the call for help eating into the boy’s conscience, and his master had yet to arrive. How could Windu not feel this? he asked himself. And even if he didn’t, how could he let someone suffer like that when someone else senses it? He was reminded about his frigid feelings for Master Windu, and for the order itself. How can they guard peace and justice if they do things like this? His mother called to him from his memory, as did all his fellow slaves on Tatooine, as well as the memory of the Council’s endless explanations as to why they could not be freed. The boy’s eyebrows knitted.

***

Pennywise remained for hours, staring at the void where Palpatine once hung. His emotions echoed through the emptiness. A refreshing silence, absent of music accompanying his ears, enraptured him. “Alone.” That word had been his, and that fact flustered him. After a long while, he looked down, but saw no clown jumpsuit. No arms, no body. He was the emptiness, and he let himself sink into the sensation. But the saxophone melody soon resumed, piercing the emptiness with its mournful jazz. That fucking Mia, the thought tore through his mind as he recognized the melody played by the little human girl.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed. I am still very new to writing, so any and all commentary or critique is appreciated.


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